Just Beneath The Skin

Slender beams of radiance enter
this darkened room as I kneel,
always a slave, always alone,
frozen here,
waiting.

Tortured forms wrought in panes of glass loom as
dust dances in the air,
forming an image in my mind,
penetrating my naked flesh.

Blood on my face.

I raise my head, now crying out for
this uncaring truth.





Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback